hard act to follow
rustling timetables typed by monkeys, travellers
from half happy Harlem
suburb of Rome and all she spent
step into the baking plaza
crane at the contrails
face you want badly?
what?
sing songs?
The Onomatopoeia of Love?
looks like?
sounds like?
your only thought a comet
your only thighs
a concerto for many pianos
your hands a passacaglia
gesticulating in slow motion
Auslan for peace (but with one hand)
and crankiness (with the other)
at the midnight screening of Funniest Home Videos during the last hours of the annual Sadista world conference a fifties blonde’s long nails plough her pouting labia her face a study in concentration her crimson lips mouth ’You will be deaf tomorrow. What will you hear
today?’
Cap’n Billy Blog of Internet fame champion of the quotidian oft quoted in the Occident Express a gruff fellow with beard says ’Come here my lambs I want to read you a bed time story from The Technology of Consciousness’ he straightway opens the shutters on an infinite regress a
Zenscape
closes them again
then gratuitously in front of his audience
(indelible in their minds forever)
dies
under
xenomorphic
distress
(the phantasmagoria of all that dwell
beyond the earth)
after the gradual Hymnen the Internationale Welsh male choir’s wedding the winter of a widow’s toccata then silence
a leaf falls in Oklahoma
or Tibet